Round and Round each time (One Shot)
by Sabbedoria
Summary: Jon like his job at the Campus Cafe. And the Hardware Store. And at the Fast Food Outlet. He like quiet study at his college. He doesn't like socialising beyond his family, he doesn't like trouble and he doesn't really like cats. It's meant to be just another late shift at the Cafe, but luck has never gone this bastard's way.


_"Three more hours", _ he told himself, wiping the table down with an already damp rag, his arm aching. "_Just three more hours, then I've enough."_

Jon was tired all over, from wiping tables and taking orders for six hours straight. He hadn't sat down, he worked meticulously, scrimping and saving every last tip, eager to please every customer so they would oblige him with extras. An extra water, no lettuce, more ice, less milk. This time of night, the only customers were drunk college students, usually stumbling in from a party he hadn't been invited to. He kept to himself so not many of his peers recognized him, but to be honest he liked to keep it that way.

He shared a dorm with the misfit equivalents at his college, none of them bothered about the frat mentality, they were joking called the Night's Watch by the neighbouring dorms. They stayed up all night working, had the dampest, darkest dorm, and their colour was black for the circles under their eyes.

Their colour was black for the circles under their eyes. They weren't particularly the academic dorm, nor the sporting dorm. They were the stoners, the hippies, some students had low-level charges for theft and other minor crimes. They weren't hated, but they weren't loved either. Their building was on the edge of the campus, next to "The Wall", an archaic wall built in the 1800's for some undisclosed reason (everyone new it was built to keep out the neighbouring university, The North), it was 20ft tall and unforgiving, made of speckled grey stone, it seemed to radiate cold even on the most humid of days. As part of a hazing ceremony, The North pledges, also appropriately nicknamed Wildlings (Jon wasn't sure how the system worked) would be dared to scale the wall and into the Night's Watch dormitory.

Jon had never seen one of the mysterious North Wildlings, but he had sure heard plenty of rumours regarding their raucous behaviour. Cars set on fire, random and unprovoked assault, student being hit over the head with glass bottles, mostly caused by an age old rivalry between their university's and Jon's. It was said that the founder of the university had a deal to originally build The North on the ideal plot of land in Westeros that Jon's university occupied, until the deal was broken between the land's owner, who instead sold it to the Targearyen's, the founders of King's Landing University. King's landing had it's share of illustrious alumni and history drenched in betrayal and blood. For example, Areys Targearyen was only kicked off the school board a decade ago, causing the subsequent arson of his house and death of himself, his wife and one of his sons. His surviving son and newborn daughter were whisked away to Essos, across narrow the sea. Wether they were alive now was another question, but if she was, she'd be about his age.

Jon turned his attention to the ding of the doorbell, signalling a new customer. Through the door waltzed his half sister, Sansa Stark, a freshman at his college and accepted into her chosen fraternity house with ease, she already had a boyfriend, Joffrey Baratheon, son of the School Board's head. She seemed to be floating through college life, calm with no hair out of place. She seemed so much more comfortable here as opposed to their home in Winterfell, she'd had a taste of the south and never looked back. She was dutiful though, always sending letters to her mother back home (they didn't use technology, for they deeply distrusted it). The fact she'd made the trip all the way up to his side of the caused a gnawing sensation in the back of his mind.

"Jon, how goes the night? You look busy" She remarked, sinking into one of the booths.

"What are you doing here this late at night?" he asked, walking to where she was seated. He pulled a pen and notepad out of his apron, clicking the pen, "What can I get you?"

"There's a party in my dormitory and I needed to study." She indicated to the laptop under her arm "Flat white coffee, one sugar. Do you have any more of those lemoncakes? They're divine."

He scribbled her order down "Will that be all?"

"Yeah, have you heard from Rob recently? I can't seem to get a hold of him." Sansa was always fretting, and if Rob wasn't checking in with her from Winterfell, it would cause her some stress. He'd decided to attend a local college to be closer to their wild sister Arya and young brother Bran, who had recently been in an accident, leaving him a paraplegic. He was her constant source of information about him, as letters about Bran's condition were to far and few in between and always made her impatient.

"I'm sure he's fine Sansa, you know he's juggling a lot at the moment." He said pointedly, referring to his new girlfriend Talisa, whom he'd dumped a Frey girl for. Jon was worried his actions may come back to bite him, as the Freys were not ones to shame without consequences.

Sansa bit her lip, mulling over his words. "I suppose you're right. Have you met anyone yet? I'm sure plenty of cute girls come in here. Or boys"

Jon sighed "Plenty of cute girls, none that want to date a man of the Night's Watch, which I would be upset by if I actually cared. I have three jobs and master's degree to get through, I don't have time for girls. How are you managing to juggle it all, you still seeing that Jeffrey Kid?"

"His name is Joffrey and you know it. You may not like him but I do." She sniffed and adjusted her scarf absentmindedly, which it was a little too unseasonably warm for yet. She was right about one thing, he really didn't like him, he may be a pretty face but there was something very wrong about him. The rest of his family felt the same, except Ned, who was too chummy with Jeffrey's father to notice anything off about the boy.

"Whatever San. I'll get you that coffee then."

She rolled her eyes and pulled out her laptop, the bright screen illuminating her pristine face and high cheekbones.

When he was finally done, it was 3am and he was knackered. He could feel an ache all the way to his bones, al lithe work he did with his hands was causing them to callous and grow strong. He was no longer the weedy, thin boy with a mop of black hair that left Winterfell two years ago, he mused.

The back of the coffee shop alley was black except for a glow from under the doorway and a streetlamp down the road. It was almost silent too, bar the occasional owl of car in the distance. He heaved the heavy black bag of garbage into the trashcan, he could barely remember when it was a hard chore. So much had changed in his two years, Bran's accident, Sansa growing up and moving here too, Arya was nearly finished high school, Rickon just starting. He had adapted, as so many do, to his new surroundings. And though he wasn't out of his element like Arya or thriving like Sansa, he was content. The hard labour of the three jobs he held down were good for his health, making him stronger, and he was challenged academically, and he loved it. He didn't regret the whole never-going-to-parties thing and the no-girlfriend thing. He was a lone wolf, he was no pack animal. He didn't need the company of others, with the exception of his husky, Ghost, who lived with him and his dorm mate Samwell Tarly.

Suddenly there was a scuffle and a clash of metal from further into the darkness of the alley, there was something hiding. A raccoon? A possum? It sounded to big. A bear? Jon sure as hell hoped it wasn't.

"Whose there?" He called, hoping it would scare off the animal, or alert the possible presence of human, more than likely a drunk one. He stepped toward the origin of the sound, into the darkness of the alley. Jon lost his balance when a fist swung out and clocked him in the jaw. He staggered, fell, and hit his head on a trashcan on his way down.

"Shit! What the f-"

A figure jumped out onto and covered his mouth, cutting off him off. From the outline, he guessed it was a small man. His head reeling, he could hear a light, silencing hiss in his ear, the attacker was eluding a musky scent. With a few more blinks, his eyesight adjusted and he realised he was being pinned down by a woman, with wild red hair. He struggled to throw her off him, it could be a druggie demanding money from the till of his coffee shop.

She clung to him and whispered angrily "Shut the hell up."

He stopped fighting for a second to hear footsteps in the distance and quiet but hostile voices. He was suddenly very aware of the proximity of her body to his, his face got hot and he blushed as all the blood rushed to his head. When the footsteps got fainter, she jumped off him, a silent as a doe. He struggled to get up, the ache in his head and jaw was deafening. A hand appeared in front of his head and he flinched, until he realised it was outstretched to help him up. He was pulled to his feet roughly, he had clearly misjudged the woman's strength, which was evident from the pain in his face. His head spun and he knocked over another one of the trashcans.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" a voice that could only be the small angry woman's

"Me? You attacked me!"

"I was hiding, you know nothing!"

Jon cradled his sore head and turned from the crazy lady with a wicked uppercut. He didn't need this kind of aggravation. Not looking back, he unlocked the back door to the shop and hobbled in. When he turned, he realised the girl was following him.

"Hey, you can't be in here, we're shut and you just assaulted me." She already walked past him and to the sink, where she got a clean cup from the drying rack and poured herself some water. Her behaviour left Jon speechless, he knew he should probably do or say something but the nerve of the woman was beyond his comprehension.

"What's your name, pretty boy?" She had her back to him, and he was sorely tempted to call campus security for all the grief she'd just caused him. . He glanced at the phone to the left of him

"It's Jon Snow, and I ain't no pretty boy, what in the Seven hells are you doing. Who are you?"

"I'm Ygritte. Sit down and shut your pretty mouth. I almost feel bad for punching it."

He complied and sat at one of the barstools, his pride and head too injured to argue. She finished filling her cup and took a swig, then she filled it back up, grabbed a teatowel and dipped it in the water. She walked over to him and squeezed the excess water from her newly acquired rag.

"Shut your eyes." She dabbed the damp cloth to a cut on his forehead where a metal lid had fell on him. Jon complied grudgingly, only because there were no reflective surfaces for him to clean blood oozing from his face. He gently stroked his jaw, hoping the throbbing would slow, but to no avail.

All was quiet in the café apart from the _tick tick tick tick _of the clock on the wall, letting him know it was 3:34am in the morning. He groaned internally in the knowledge he had a lecture at 9am and study to do before that, and afterwards a shift at the café and one at a local hardware store he was also employed at. He was going to be a mess, and it was going to be a long, long day.

"What's an idiot like you doing scaring girls at 3am in a dark alley?" Ygritte asked, Jon opened an eye to see her with her small lips pursed. She had a wide forehead, a pointed chin and an unturned nose. A tangle of fiery red hair framed her freckled face. She was by no means a natural beaut,y but gods she was striking with an attitude problem to match.

"I work here-"

"I thought that was obvious."

Jon frowned, "I was emptying the trash and closing up. I thought you were a raccoon."

Ygritte smirked "I've been called worse." She rinsed the bloodied teatowel in the cup of water

"That doesn't comply with workplace health and safety"

"Baby I'm a rulebreaker. I've washed cups before, I'll make it sparkly clean again. I know how to remove traces of blood." Her last words sounded dubious but he let it slide.

"What were you doing in an alleyway at 3am, aside from punching me?"

"Well that's just none of you're beeswax, pretty boy now ain't it?" Her Scottish accent clipped her words.

"Would you stop calling me that? Why are you doing that?" It was driving him nuts to be talked down to in such a way.

"Oh hush Jon Snow. I can't help it you've got a nice face now can I?" Her mouth revealed crooked teeth, with some very sharp canines. Despite their form, her teeth were healthy and white, and Jon found himself inspecting them as she spoke. She noticed him looking and scowled. "It's rude to stare."

"It's also rude to punch people unprovoked."

"Oh you provoke me plenty."

She dropped her hand from his face and sauntered in the direction of the freezer, in which she disappeared. Jon had given up trying to rationalise anything Ygritte did at this point.

"Look, I gotta close up, I have a lecture in the morning.." He called after her. She reappeared with a packet of frozen peas and snatched up another cloth from the bench, wrapping the bag in it

"Here." She shoved it in his hands, indicating for him to put it on his jaw. She walked out the back door the way she came in. Het got up and left behind her, thoroughly thrown off guard by this wild woman. He heard her shuffling things back in her hiding spot behind some bins

"Lock the door behind you, don't you know anything?" she said, dismissing him.

He did as she said, making sure he turned out the door. She stepped out of the darkness, the teatowel, cup and a cargo coloured satchel in her hands.


End file.
